


The End and the Beginning

by days4daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been about three years since Cas allowed himself to feel, right around the time when his angel brethren abandoned Earth for good.</p>
<p>But Cas feels something now. It happens the moment Dean Winchester looks into his eyes. Not his fearless leader, no. This is a different Dean Winchester. One with fire in his belly and hope in his heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Takes place during Episode 5.04 - The End.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End and the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A little birdie told me that Endverse fic is a requirement for initiation into Supernatural fandom.
> 
> If so, this is mine ^_^ Enjoy!

"I like past you."

Dean gets the joke. It's a little mean-spirited, sure. Especially coming from Cas. But to him, it's a joke. End of story. Tripped out, hippie Cas likes him more than the future version of himself. Hell, why wouldn't he? That guy is out shooting his own soldiers and torturing demons for Lucifer's dirty little secrets.

It isn't a joke to his 2014 doppleganger, though. Dean knows the look his future self gives Cas. Or what's left of Cas anyway, burnt out with dead eyes and dirty boots kicked up on the table.

The 2009 version of Dean Winchester hears a harmless jab. 2014 Dean sees red.

***

Cas feels something.

It's been about three years since Cas allowed himself to feel, right around the time when his angel brethren abandoned Earth for good. The last of Cas' grace drained from him like blood from a stab wound. He has been compensating ever since, filling his emptiness with any addiction he can get his hands on. Booze. Pills. Sex. Needles.

Dean called him a hippie, he was kind of amused at first. But the name-calling worsened quickly - junkie, trash heap, failure, disgrace.

Disgrace - literally, the opposite of grace. That one actually stung a bit.

"You were supposed to be there for me, Cas!" He sort of remembers Dean shaking him, hurt and angry. "Win or lose, you were supposed to be there! Are you even listening!?"

A long time ago, the accusation would have made something die inside Cas. He _was_ supposed to be there for Dean and Sam, no matter what. But that was in the old days, before Sam said yes and Dean said no. Before Detroit.

Dean shook him by the shirt and begged him to fight back. To do _something_. Cas just smiled. He didn't see one Dean, he saw three. The floorboards were purple. The ceiling was a rainbow. It was all so beautiful.

As beautiful as a Godless world could be.

But Cas feels something now. It happens the moment Dean Winchester looks into his eyes. Not his fearless leader, no. This is a different Dean Winchester. One with fire in his belly and hope in his heart.

Hope is not a feeling Cas is familiar with anymore. But it radiates off of this Dean like a bonfire. Cas finds himself both attracted and repelled. He is desperate to share in this emotional high. But he also knows he isn't worthy. Hope is so pure, like the memories of a child. And Cas, well… Cas is wasted.

Cas staggers back on drug-numbed legs. "Whoa. Strange. You're not you," he says. "What year are you from?"

2009\. This Dean Winchester is from 2009.

Cas has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reaching out. This Dean is a drug unto himself. The beautiful, broken thing Cas rebelled for so long ago.

"What are you, stoned?" Dean asks. If Cas could still feel, he would cry. This Dean only knows Castiel, the angel. Castiel, the righteous.

2009 Dean Winchester can't even begin to wrap his brain around this dead, faithless world.

Cas gives him a thin-lipped smile. "Generally, yeah," he replies. 2009 Dean reacts like he's been hit by a bus.

***

"You." 

In 2014, Dean Winchester does not bother with pleasantries. He storms into the night, spots the junkie by the vans, and calls him with an anonymous label.

Cas gets the insult. He rolls his eyes. But he still comes when Dean calls him. He always comes when Dean calls.

Cas sighs when Dean grabs his arm and drags him around back to the shed. He shoves Cas inside, and Cas stumbles to his knees. His sluggish, drunk brain sloshes around in his head.

Groaning, he slowly pushes himself back up. "What do you need, fearless leader?" Cas asks. "I'm still rounding up the grunts."

"You've got no fucking right."

Cas looks confused. It's one of the few times Dean can remember him looking like the real Cas in years.

"I don't know what you mean," Cas says, carefully.

"Don't look at him," Dean mutters. Cas blinks.

When realization hits, he breaks into a terrible smile. "…Are you serious?"

"You don't have the right, Cas," Dean grits. "Not after what you did-"

"How long are you going to use me as your scapegoat, Dean?" Cas should be angry - Dean would give anything to see him angry. But Cas just sounds tired. His words slur together helplessly. "What'll you do when I die?"

"Shut up, Cas."

"It'll happen." Cas turns away from him. "Probably soon. Will you go after someone else? Or keep blaming my bones for everything wrong with your life?"

"I swear to God-"

"There's no such thing." Dean is stunned to silence. Not by the words. Not even by the fact that Cas said them. It's the way they were said, with an elevated voice and fury-hot eyes.

Dean finally has the emotional response he wants. But now that it's here, he doesn't know what to do with it.

Cas pauses too, his own feelings surprising himself. When he continues, his voice is still edged, but quieter. "Past You feels like hope. He feels like faith-"

"I never had faith," Dean mutters.

"Not in God. In family. In the right thing, Dean. Past You understands the point of everything. Past You-"

"Makes you fucking horny, I get it," Dean cuts in. "Whatever. Eat him up, you piece of shit. You've earned it. Putting up with me all these years? Congrats, Cas. You sure did earn it."

Cas opens his mouth to say something. He feels like this is important, like these seconds are his last chance to do something right.

But he can't. His mouth is tangled by the drugs, and his mind is blank.

Dean curses at him and storms out of the shed. But not before Cas sees the shell break, devastation flashing in his eyes.

Cas staggers to the door a few minutes later. He could follow, and maybe he should. But he goes back to his room instead and opens the locked shelf on the back wall. He keeps the absinthe there.

Absinthe is a rarity, nearly impossible to procure. It is only broken out for special occasions. This feels like one of those times.

***

"You sure you should be driving?" 

Past Dean doesn't care, honestly. He isn't worried about crashing. Maybe he should be, but he knows his 2014 self is right. Zachariah put him into this future vision for a reason. He won't let Dean be a DUI victim. 

And even if he did, maybe it would be for the best. Maybe Zachariah isn't teaching him a lesson after all. Maybe this is just where Dean is stuck, and it's up to him to grin and bear it. If that's the deal, he'd rather get in a car wreck now. It seems like one of the least painful ways to go in this hellhole world.

Cas shoots him an amused look. "I drive better with greenies than without 'em."

That Cas can use 'greenies' freely in conversation makes Dean a little sick to the stomach.

"Hey, Cas." Dean eyes him seriously. "I get how stupid this sounds, but I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen to you. To any of you."

Cas glances at him before returning his eyes to the road. "I let it happen to myself, Dean," he replies. "There's enough blame to go around."

Dean breathes out slowly. "How'd we get here, man? I mean, I didn't say yes when I should have. I missed my shot at destroying the Devil. Maybe we're supposed to end up in this mess. But we've gotta be stronger than this, Cas. I have to believe we're stronger-"

"You told me that once." Dean turns, but Cas isn't looking at him. "Win or lose, I should have been there for you. I wasn't, Dean. I wasn't strong enough."

"I'm a grown man, Cas. I've gotta be strong enough for myself first-"

"You needed me, but I couldn't look at you." Cas faces him finally, and Dean sees the unnatural shine in his eyes. Emotion and drugs swimming together. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"Cas-"

"Stop." Cas returns his eyes to the road. "I'm tired, ok."

Dean wants to reach out for him. Put a hand on his knee, his shoulder. Something to remind Cas that he isn't alone. Even now. No matter what they've been through.

But his hands stay in his lap, and eventually he looks back out the window. 

***

"Hey, don't say I never do anything for you." 2014 Dean is feeling smug and parades it proudly on his face. The Caravan has stopped to take cover for a few hours. The grunts are tucked in their seats, sleeping on shielded rifles and keeping an ear out for Croats.

Cas is outside zipping up after a leak. Dean followed him, buzzing lightly on whiskey - a rare release of control. He wants to rub every second of this in. "How'd it go with your little Back to the Future man crush?" Cas gives him a look that Dean almost believes is real, drug-induced fog cut through by pain.

"What?" Dean barks, when Cas stays silent.

Cas sighs and looks past him, towards the Caravan. "I'm sorry, Dean," he says. "You should know that before I die."

He steps around Dean and starts back to the jeep, but he's stopped by a hand roughly grabbing his elbow. Cas is too tired from the pill drop-off to fight. He lets Dean jerk him back to where he was and reluctantly faces his steeled expression.

"You that desperate for us to bury you?" Dean mutters. "You're a damn coward, Cas."

"I know."

"Spineless, soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying? You're already dead." The memory comes back so suddenly, so crystal-clear, that Cas' slumped shoulders jolt upright. He winces and turns to stare off into the night.

Dean grabs his chin and yanks his face back. Cas grunts but otherwise does not fight him. The loss of his buzz quivers through his fingers. The night wind suddenly feels ten degrees colder.

"Maybe I'll make you survive, huh." Dean's mouth twists upward. "Maybe I won't let you die, think of that? I'll keep you around, watch you live with everything-"

"You didn't bring us along to keep us alive, Dean." The accusation is not made in anger. It is an embodiment of present day Castiel, resigned and toneless.

Dean's smirk fades. "What?"

"You're here to kill Lucifer with the Colt," Cas says. "We're in the middle of a hot zone. Where are the Croats?"

Dean gives him a hard stare. His silence only confirms what Cas already knows. "It's a trap. You need bodies."

"Cas-"

"You need us, so you and Past You can do your thing and save the world. I get it, Dean. We all get it." Cas' expression is a blank slate. "I forgive you."

Dean punches him in the face.

One of the nice things about Cas' mortality is that Dean knows his fist actually hurts. Cas stumbles to the ground. He hisses and raises shaking fingers to his face, gingerly testing the sore spot.

When he looks up at Dean, his cheek has already started to swell. It's the shine of his eyes that hits Dean hardest though, large and betrayed.

But the look isn't enough to shake Dean's anger. "I don't need your forgiveness, you understand? I'm still here, fighting this thing, _without_ you. You died a long time ago, Cas. If I use you as a decoy, so what? You're not you. Not anymore."

Cas stands and brushes his hands off on his jeans. As he looks down at the dirt on his fingers, he sighs. "Of course, Dean." He lifts his eyes. The clarity is gone, frosted over with indifference. "You're right, as always."

Dean grabs his arm when he tries again to make his return to the Caravan. It isn't a surprise for Cas, who cracks a wry smile and cocks his head to the side. It puts his already sore cheek within aim for another fist. Patiently, he closes his eyes.

Dean grabs fists full of Cas’ shirt instead and pulls him back, away from awake, prying eyes. Alone and hidden, Dean pushes an arm against Cas’ collar and forces him against the base of a tree. Cas struggles instinctively. His dark, indignant stare bores into Dean's. But he says nothing.

When Dean kisses him, it's rough and bruising. He feels Cas freeze beneath him. It's been a long time since they've done this.

But the moment fades quickly into acceptance and memory. Lips are parted and hands grip Dean’s jeans. Dean grunts his approval and shoves his arm harder against Cas' neck. He swallows Cas' choked groan hungrily. Cas offers no objection to the tongue tasting him, he just hooks his fingers in Dean's belt loops and pulls him in closer. The friction of their jeans is snug and hot. Dean can already feel his body responding.

He doesn't waste time. Mouth still on Cas', he snakes a hand between their bodies and undoes Cas' fly. Dean draws him out, already half-hard, and begins to touch him with slow, calloused strokes. Cas makes a strained sound against him, higher than his usual pitch. In kind, he slides a hand down the front of Dean's pants, undoing them and pushing his fingers inside.

There was a time when they used to work harder at this. They would gasp each other's names, like they meant something to each other.

But in 2014, Dean just rubs him out. The only show of sentimentality is their mouths still crushed together. And even this is not emotion. It's an excuse to get lost in the moment and not acknowledge one another.

Cas follows his rough strokes and gives the same in kind. The contact is rough and painful, but his body still responds to it. Pain is more than he gets to feel most days. His hips roll towards the contact, demanding more. He makes low sounds around Dean's tongue.

When they get close, Dean turns his head. He leaves his forehead on Cas' temple, another excuse to not look at him. His breaths burst hot down the side of Cas' face. 

Cas makes a soft noise, somewhere between pleasure and agony. He, too, remembers what this used to be. This is just a shadow. Soulless people and an empty act. No better than the Croats. But his body still bucks forward.

Cas tries to turn his head upward, swallowing air with his kiss-swollen mouth. But he can't move far with Dean's forehead on his hair. The hot breaths down Cas' stubbled jaw make him shiver – from want or hate, he isn’t sure.

Before the end, when Dean would come first, it was because his humanity was overwhelmed.

It took a long time for Dean to let Cas take control. At first, Dean claimed it was a trust thing. But after awhile, he had to accept that it was fear. He was cool with kissing Cas, touching Cas. He was even cool with giving Cas a handjob or fucking him through a hotel mattress. But letting Cas on top of him? That took awhile.

When he finally said yes to an angel inside him, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. There was the body part, sure. Jimmy Novak was a built dude, just taking him in took Dean some time. But it was the angel’s grace that pushed him over the edge. It was how Cas would look down at him on the bed, eyes large and fascinated, head tilted in wonder.

Dean would get a little scared sometimes. Stop staring, he would say. It's creepy as hell. Dean was used to being looked at, sure. But it was one thing to get a side glance from a hot chick at a bar. It was another thing to feel eyes cut through his skin and stare down to his soul.

Buried deep inside Dean, expression awed, Cas would simply lay a hand on his chest. Suddenly, Dean would feel it - wave upon wave of hot, rushing bliss. Dean would twist under him, bite his lip until it bled. He would try to deny it, fight to hold out. The last thing Dean ever wanted was to be weak. Even in front of Cas.

No, especially in front of Cas. He wasn’t just some china doll God created. Some damn mud monkey, like Junkless used to call him. He was Dean Winchester, and he was stronger than that.

But Dean couldn’t be strong forever. "I can't," he would whisper, hating the break in his own voice. "I- I can't, Cas."

Cas would kiss him. His mouth tasted like worship, like he thought Dean was the most important thing in the world. And Dean would come first.

When Cas followed him, Dean would find himself laughing weakly. "What'd I even do?" he'd ask. "I didn't do shit."

When he opened his eyes, Cas would be looking at him with this crazy peace. Gentle lips and a soft look. "You're Dean Winchester," he would say. That was the only answer he needed. 

Now, when Dean comes first it's because Cas is too numb from the drugs. It takes his body longer, but he gets there soon, spilling on Dean's fingers. It's messy and unflattering.

Dean wipes his hand on the bark behind them. Cas does the same. His hand comes away wet and dirty with specs of splintered wood.

"There're rags in my truck," Dean says. It isn't a request.

Cas tucks himself carefully back into his pants, then sighs. "All righty." he replies. He heads off towards the Caravan.

Dean closes himself up by the time Cas gets back. He takes the rag Cas offers wordlessly, wiping his hands and pulling his rumpled clothes into place.

"Dean," Cas says, then stops. Years ago, they never said much to each other either. But when something needed to be said, words would come to him. Even if they weren't the right ones, he would at least try.

But now, he realizes miserably that there's nothing to say. It's 2014, and the world can't be fixed. 

Dean looks at him for one silent, terrible second. Then, he walks away.

Cas stands by the tree for a few minutes. He watches Dean leave, then glances up towards the tree branches. Years ago, he would have heard birds and bees and taken comfort. Now, the world is hollow, like everyone left behind.

When he returns to the jeep, Past Dean is awake. He gives Cas a raised brow, mouth quirked look. Cas glances at him, then reaches into the backseat for a half-full bottle of Jack.

Cas opens it and swigs straight from the bottle. "What?" he asks, mid-cringe as the liquor burns a path down his throat.

"So, Jane's not the only one Risa's got to worry about, huh?" Dean's brow rises higher. "I thought you were all about the orgies now."

Cas takes another long gulp. "Dean." He looks at his Past Fearless Leader, the one still capable of amusement. "I get how this is going to sound. But I'll say it anyway." The joking look falls from Dean's face, replaced by concern. Cas breaks into a mirthless smile. "When Zachariah brings you back, you need to know something."

"What?"

Cas' dead smile softens into something more human. "I'm bad at a lot, let's be honest. Just know... I care, ok? I don't know how to say it. And I don't know how to show it. But I care about everything. I care about you."

Dean frowns. "Cas, what's going on?"

"I'm beat." Cas sinks the driver's seat back and tucks the bottle of whiskey under his arm. "Get some sleep, Dean."

Cas closes his eyes and lets himself fade into a dreamless, alcohol-aided darkness. He's semi-aware of the fact that Dean stays up and watches him. But he does not acknowledge it, that night or at dawn when they move out on foot.

***

The approach to the Jackson County Sanatorium is quiet. Too quiet.

After last night, a small piece of him thought that the plan would change. Maybe Past Dean would come up with something. Or maybe, just maybe, 2014 Dean would have a change of heart… But he can’t say he’s surprised when they crouch behind burned and broken cars outside the gate, and Present Dean motions towards the building. "Second floor window, we go in there."

He hands Cas the binoculars, which Cas does not use. The creatures waiting for them behind that window will not be visible with binoculars. If they were, Dean's plan to use them as a decoy would be over.

Cas glances at Risa, who looks at him with concern. She must see the same in his eyes, but for different reasons. He, at least, knows for sure that they are being paraded to their deaths. His worry comes from knowing there is absolutely no way his human form will be able to protect her, and everyone else.

In another life, he could have zapped away the Croats with a flash of his grace. Now, he's on limited rifle ammo and a sore, hungover body. Life is strange.

"Hey, uh, me..." Past Dean makes his presence felt. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

It's still weird, after everything Cas has seen, to watch two Dean Winchesters converge in private. They leave eye and ear-shot, which forces Cas to stay behind with the doubtful troops. He looks down at the gun in his hands, checking the rounds and snapping everything into place.

"This doesn't feel right, Cas," Risa whispers. She leans towards him when she speaks, keeping her uncertainty hidden from the group. "It's too quiet. If the Croats aren't at street level, they have to be somewhere. This has to be a trap-"

"If it is, we're still going through that second floor window," Cas replies. Risa seems surprised by his steady response. Airy, drug-soaked slurs are more his speed.

"This is Dean, Risa," Cas adds, quieter. His uncharacteristic sobriety must carry some weight. Risa returns to her weapons check and does not voice any other doubts.

Cas thinks he used to feel guilty about lying. But those days are so long ago, he can't remember for sure.

Cas lifts his head only when Dean returns. Future Dean. Past Dean has disappeared. "Let's move out," he orders, approaching the gate. "We bust in on my word-"

"Dean, where's...Dean?" Risa asks. Her face scrunches at the oddness of her own question. 

Dean barely gives her a look, just a quick side-eye over the shoulder. "Changed my mind," he replies. "Better if he's not in on this one. If something happens to him, it happens to me. And we gotta be at full strength. This is our only chance to bag the Devil."

They get through the gate, and Dean only stops when Cas puts a hand on his arm. "He's fine," Dean mutters, for his ears only.

Then, he continues to the building's side, eyes facing their entry point. He motions for the troops to follow, and they fall in silently, flattening against the wall. The rope is brought out, hooks on the end, ready to climb.

"You guys head up first. Cas and Risa, you follow once ground level is secured. I'll cover your backs until everyone's in."

"I'll lead," Cas says.

He knows what 'lead' means. Breaking into a building infested with Croats is like fresh meat diving into a lion cage. It's exactly why Dean wants him and Risa going up last. They're all going to die anyway, but Fearless Leader no doubt calculated some miniscule odds that he and Risa could escape with their lives from ground level. Run before the Croats tear them apart.

Cas is done gambling on percentages and chance. He's going to die today. Might as well die a stupid death. It's worth watching Dean's resolve crumble, anyway. His stone glare shatters with furious remorse.

Dean fixes his cracks quickly and turns away, gritting, "Great. Cas up first. Risa, you hang back, let the boys up the rope. Cover their backs, I'll take the rear."

Cas smiles. These are his final moments, and Dean Winchester won't even look at him. Somehow, this seems appropriate. He wishes he had some of that absinthe right now. Or acid. An acid trip would be beautiful.

Still, Cas thinks as he begins to climb, maybe it's for the best that he's meeting the end sober. It's what he deserves, if nothing else.

Now, he can only hope Past Dean was right all those years ago. Maybe destiny is still bull, just a lie to keep the world in line. And maybe the future can still be changed, if the Winchesters refuse to follow the script.

Strangely comforted, Cas eases the window open and slides inside. His entry is as flawless as a human's can be, silent and unobtrusive.

He's just unlucky. Ten pairs of starved eyes fix on him at entry. They creep slowly forward, their teeth bared unnaturally. One of the grunts slides in behind Cas, sees the scene in front of him, and immediately shouts and waves back down the line. But the warning can only do so much. Footsteps echo through the hallways and down the steps. Roused from their stillness, the Croats spill outside, clawing at anyone left at ground level and yanking them inside. 

Cas is one hundred percent sober. But he still hears himself laughing as he opens fire.

He always knew he would die for the Winchesters. But God, what a dumb way to go.

***

"Nah" may not be the best thing to tell an Angel of the Lord. If only 2014 Dean could see him now. 2009 Dean's ass would be grass.

But Dean can't do it. Zachariah's vision of the future did teach him a lesson. But it wasn't to say yes to Michael. It was that he has to be stronger. Hell, they all have to be stronger. The second they give up, everything goes straight to the Pit.

Zachariah isn't thrilled, to put it mildly. "Well, I'll just have to teach it again!" His eyes get crazy, and he advances forward. "Cause I've got you now, boy. And I'm never letting you-"

Zachariah's threat is cut short by a sudden breeze and a flash of light. Dean blinks. The motel room fades away, replaced by night lamps and crickets. The street is empty of all except one. An angel with an ill-fitting suit and sober blue eyes. 

"Pretty nice timing, Cas," Dean says. It's the only thing he can manage in a steady voice.

"We had an appointment," Cas replies. His words are low and comforting.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder. It's not much, but for them, the gesture is huge. He pauses, trying to figure out how to express everything he's seen. Everything he never wants to see again.

In the end, all Dean can say is, "Don't ever change."

As he lets his hand drop, Dean swears Cas gives him the faintest hint of a smile.

_I don't know how to say it. And I don't know how to show it. But I care about everything. I care about you._

Dean hides one of his own. He gets it, he wants to say. And he feels the same way. One day, he'll figure out how to show it.

But Dean can't go there, not yet. There's a phone call he needs to make first.

No more excuses. It's time to talk to Sam.

*The End*


End file.
